


Stacks

by Winged_Monkey28



Series: Close Encounters of the Celebrity Kind [3]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Funny Face reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winged_Monkey28/pseuds/Winged_Monkey28
Summary: An unassuming bookstore gets a mystery shopper.





	Stacks

The weak winter sunlight streaked through the storefront of the bookstore. A fireside lounge beckoned pedestrians off the cold streets of London outside. In here sat the promise of an escape from the woes of the day. An adventure in the tropics. A secret rendezvous at a speakeasy. They were all neatly stacked and sorted. All one needed to do was pick one up and open its pages.

Right now, Gerry could use an escape of her own. She blew out a sigh as she straightened books in the romance section. Curling fonts and bare chested men graced most of the covers. Some of the men held women in various stages of undress, all had that same sappy look on their face. Another sigh escaped her lips.

"Gerry, love, if I hear you sigh one more time, so help me, I will bash your head in with one of those hard bound volumes of Shakespeare from the back!" came the call of Harold.

"You wouldn't let blood stain your precious books!" she called back as she wove her way through the shelves. 

She found Harold sitting on a threadbare loveseat angled near the fireplace. The older gentleman had a book spread across his lap. His graying head rose from his reading as she approached. An old unlit pipe was clamped between his lips. He smiled around it as he looked over at her.

"Out with it then. You never sigh this much unless there's something on your mind. Or someone," a brow rose at the last.

The bell over the door clanged as it opened. Two bundled up pedestrians entered. One carried a large case slung over the shoulder. They both looked around, nodding.

"Welcome to Books of the Knight," Gerry greeted, smiling. "Please let me know if there is anything I can help you find."

"American? What are you doing in a London bookstore?" the shorter of the two asked. Removing the scarf wrapped around the head revealed a woman. She scanned Gerry skeptically.

Gerry coughed and pushed the bridge of her glasses up on her nose.

"I'm helping out while I visit my uncle," she gestured to Harold, who had returned to his book.

"Hmm. Well we're taking some shots for GQ. Saw this quaint store. Decided it would fit for a picture or two," the woman said rapid fire, looking around the store. She suddenly began walking towards the back.

The second guest stood near the door. He, it had to be a be with shoulders that broad, left his scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. His blue eyes crinkled in a smile as he nodded and followed after the woman.

Gerry stood torn between following them and sitting down with Harold. The quick succession of books thumping to the floor made the decision for her. She quickly made her way to the disturbance. She gasped as she saw the woman halfway up one of the ladders. She was haphazardly grabbing books and flinging them to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Gerry felt her voice squeak as she tried to keep her temper in check. This woman had some nerve, GQ or not.

The woman grabbed two more books and dropped them to the floor. She climbed down the ladder and began picking up the books. She had yet to acknowledge Gerry's question or presence in any way. Gerry sucked in a breath as the woman began placing the books randomly on the shelves.

"One fifty," the woman finally said. She held out a few pound notes, still looking at the books on the shelves. "And you leave us be for half an hour. We'll put your store's name in the article. You'll get more business than you can shake a stick at." She shook the money at Gerry.

Gerry blew out a sigh as she took the money. "Fine, but you're paying extra for any damaged books." She turned on her heel an went back to the front of the store.

"That's an odd pair there," Harold remarked as she sat down. "Now will you tell me what has you in this mood?" Gerry nodded her head, sighing. She winced as he playfully swatted the back of her head. "Out with it," he growled, chomping on his pipe.

"I heard from John today. Well not directly, he posted on Facebook. He told this story about how he made this great friend and they would hang out and so on. He never mentioned a name, but I knew he was talking about me. What wasn't said was the kiss that never happened, but he did talk about meeting the love of his life three months later."

"And how has this set you about sighing all over my books? I thought this all happened years ago."

"One thought led to another. John is just one of many. Same song, different verse. I meet a guy. We hit it off. They find the love of their life. Which is not me." Gerry twisted her fingers together back and forth.

Harold growled and chomped down on his pipe. "Daft tossers, the lot of them. You're better off for being rid of them. Your knight is out there girl. You mark my words, Geraldine love."

She looked up at his words with a small smile. "You make it sound like he'll walk through the door any minute, like Colin Firth or Hugh Grant in some rom-com. You do kind of remind me of Michael Cain though." She made a show of regarding her uncle with a slow smile. She laughed as he let out a huff, shifting his pipe between his lips before taking it out, shaking it at her.

"You laugh now. I'll have you know many a thespian has visited my store. I have one of the most extensive collection of great British writers. I only sell that modern drivel to satisfy the younger crowds."

"Please, you make it sound like they're lined up out the door. Everyone knows there's only about six of them and they just recycle them every few years," Gerry scoffed, knowing it would rile her uncle. She stiffened as she heard a soft chuckle.

"Well let's hope I have a few more years before I'm sent to the bin then!"

She looked over to see the man with the rude photographer standing nearby, leaning against the shelves. He had removed his scarf. Her jaw dropped as she recognized the defined cheekbones and thin lips that went with the eyes she had glimpsed earlier. 

"I was just wanting to inquire about this book," he said, pushing off from the shelves. He held up a slightly battered book. Gerry's jaw clamped back into place and began grinding. She recognized it from the section the photographer had commandeered.

"I warned her that-" she was cut off as he raised his other hand.

"This is the only one, besides, I found myself hooked while I was reading it between pictures. Couldn't put it down," he assured her. His mouth turned up in a bashful grin.

"Geraldine, darling help the kind lad. Ring up the book," Harold said, nudging Gerry off of her seat next to him. She stood and looked at him. He looked back at her with a steely stare and clamped his pipe. His eyes pointed to the register and he threw in a waggle of his eyebrows. She turned quickly to hide the blush that swept her face.

"This way, Mr. Hiddleston," she said as she made her way to the register. She grabbed the pricing sheet before turning to the counter. She had to look up to meet his gaze. She smiled politely.

"Book please."

He handed over the book. His long fingers brushing hers. Almost too long to be accidental. Gerry flipped to the back cover where Harold would leave a slip of paper with a code. Sometimes it followed dewy decimal. Most of the time it was all Harold.

"What do you do when you're not helping your uncle?" Tom asked.

"I'm between gigs right now," she answered without looking up from her search.

"You're a musician?" His tone was wary. Gerry looked up. One blonde brow rose above her hazel eyes.

"I'm not really anything," Gerry said as she handed Tom his receipt. A single brow rose on his face. "I mean I have a Masters in Literature, but I haven't been able to find a place I can use it," she went on to explain with a shrug.

Tom smiled and nodded. “I have a Double First in Classics. I’m not sure where I would be if I hadn’t gone into acting,” he said with a small laugh. She smiled in response.

“Yeah, so,” she said awkwardly when Harold coughed loudly. She heard him sniggering around his pipe.

“So, yeah,” he said. He held up the book and pointed at it. “Thanks for this.”

“Time to shake a leg Tom. You can come back and hit on the librarian wannabe later,” the photographer said as she passed them to the door. He wrapped his head once more with his scarf, waving with the book as he went out the door.

As the door closed silence settled like a heavy blanket between uncle and niece. Just as Harold opened his mouth, Gerry raised a hand, single finger pointed up.

“Not. One. Word.”

Later that afternoon Harold had gone off to have tea and play some cards. Business had been slow but steady. Gerry was restocking when the front door bell chimed.

“Welcome to Books of the Knight. I’m back here if you have any questions,” she called as she climbed a ladder. When she didn’t hear a response she kept going. She balanced a few books on a rung as she pulled down a book that had been misplaced.

“I do have a question.”

The voice at her elbow startled Gerry. She started to tip off the ladder but a large hand splayed on her back between her shoulder blades to halt her progress. She grasped at the ladder, knocking the books into the air. She closed her eyes as she heard at least one hit the person with a meaty thud before landing on the floor. She took a breath and opened her eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” Tom smiled up at her. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “What was your question?” She began stepping down the ladder. Tom’s other hand reached up to steady her at the elbow as his first hand stayed on her back. Gerry felt her face flush as his hand slid down her spine and settled at the base. 

“Well a few actually. Why Books of the Knight?” Tom said as she reached the floor.

“Oh, Harold’s father, my great-grandfather, was knighted shortly after World War II. He’s the one that started the shop.” She squatted down and began stacking up the fallen books.

“Really?” He went down on one knee and scooped up the remaining books. His eyes followed her as she stood. He handed the books to her as he stood.

“Yeah, service to the crown and all that hooplah. What’s your other question?” She held the books close to her.

“Two more really. One: do you have anymore recommendations for the book I purchased earlier? I really couldn’t put it down and finished it already,” he bit his lower lip and smiled. “I also wondered if you wanted to discuss it over a cuppa or even dinner?”

Gerry stood silent, staring for a moment before her mouth started moving. No words came out. She shook her head and tried again.  
“I’m sorry, did you just ask me out? It’s official: I’ve just landed in a Notting Hill remake.” Without waiting for an answer she turned around and walked away. She mumbled to herself under her breath. Tom followed as she made her way to the section the photo shoot had taken place earlier. She plucked a few books from the shelves and handed them over. She folded her hands in front of her before looking up to meet his gaze.  
“As much as the fan girl in me is screaming in protest I must decline your second question. I’m not really interested in even something casual right now.” She raised a hand to halt Tom as he opened his mouth to speak. “Honestly I’m here with my uncle because I needed to get away from everything. Give myself time to think and re-evaluate certain life decisions.”

“I can respect that,” he said as he nodded. He held up the books she gave him. “I’ll just pay for these and be on my way, yeah?”

They moved through the transaction in silence. She handed him the credit card receipt for his signature. He signed it with a flourish then looked up at her briefly before turning the piece of paper over. He wrote on it, folded it in two and handed it back to her.

“Thanks again for the books,” he smiled and departed the store.

Gerry looked down at the folded piece of paper for a few minutes before stuffing it with the other credit card receipts in the register. She closed the drawer with a resounding clang.


End file.
